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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105368">Triad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphyn/pseuds/iphyn'>iphyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doom (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2nd POV, Davoth is ur big ol narrator ladies and gents. That’s why I’m usin 2nd POV, I don’t like Sam but I love writing him you should know this, Implied Olivia Pierce., It’s implied Doomguy lmao., Massive spoilers to those that haven’t played AGPT1, My wife :), Shortie, TW for the implied broken bone, im tryna write a series but I fucking CANT I HATE IT FUCK, please excuse phy’s stupid rants, sam has broken leg oh no, sam is a young fucking human like he’s from college ok ok, sam... does not speak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:01:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphyn/pseuds/iphyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever happened to Samur Makyr after the events of The Ancient Gods: Part 1?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Intro</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh my fucking god I’m going to implode I hate this man so fucking much, but I made a bit of a story about him anyway. God my imagination works in mysterious ways. But yeah, this is my interpretation of how Samur supposedly survived after his battle with Doomguy. Of course, this is not implied to be canon, nor is it implied to be an actual canon story. This is just a little hunch of mine, it’s not even a theory, of course. All the characters interpreted in this fic of mine belongs to Id.</p><p>Don’t like, don’t read.</p><p>NOTE: This may be extremely similar to the starting events of my first fic on this website, “The Story of Σ,”. However, the rest of the chapters I will make is gonna be completely new (depending on my degrading mental health, but that’s not the point right now). This may also contain a slow usage of mumbling and random sounds, as Samur is considered to be mute just like Doomguy. With that out of the way, please ignore my indecent ramblings.</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You looked up with weakness in your eye, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. It’s as if you’ve been paralyzed. You weren’t. But sooner or later you found a way to break it through. It wasn’t easy, however.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You slept in a discreet military bed. In a discreet location you cannot describe. The cushions were uncomfortable and the sheets itchy. You start to hate this feeling, and you immediately get out of the bed. To which you fall down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You yelp. But you don’t scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pain was unbearable as you couldn’t feel your legs, you tried to stand up. You couldn’t. You felt like a ton of bricks broke your entire femur, and on any other day. You, Samur. You would be right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’ve managed to make it worse for yourself. You’ve managed to become nothing but a nasty mark. A stain. You’re no longer a muse. Just a husk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Human</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a Human again. A young human. Why. Why.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You know why. You’re afraid to admit it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You deny calling yourself a coward. A manipulator. But he knows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows. You refuse to remember her. You refuse to remember the woman that “caused,” all of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Olivia.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No. No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You internally say, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shush,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stand up, wobble a bit, then walk. Like nothing ever happened. Forgetting the short incident of falling down on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your head begins to hurt, as you touch it, you feel a large bandage wrapped around your temple all the way to your hair. You touch your left eye, it is covered in a bandage. And your arm, it is the same as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You try to remember, but your head hurts even more. You can’t think of anything right now. Just walk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s best to walk, it helps, but you don’t listen, do you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Ah… hhnng…” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can’t even speak, can you? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Nnn…. ggnnn…”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I thought not. You know how it feels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You cover your throat in surprise. A surprise you did not see arriving. Coughing out and feeling your vocal chords hurt. Chittering your teeth, kneeling down, and attempting to speak again. Your throat hurts even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a while, you breathe. You maintain your composure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You knew this would happen. You don’t accept it. You get angry. You yell. You punch the bed frame. You kick the floor. No sound comes out. No impact was made. You cry; no tears come out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Samur. You deserve this. You deserve everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stop listening to me. You stop. You lie on the floor. You look so young, staying silent. Your face looks cold and neutral, and your clothes look shredded too. Is that how you always looked? Amateur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You lie on the floor, attempting to will your limbs out of entropy. And for the first time, you talk in your mind. Not out of your mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This isn’t a fairy tale. This was never going to happen to you. Your femur is broken and yet you still find a way to unexpectedly get by. You expect to live on, forever and ever. Under the guise of your o’ mighty lord. This will never be your perfect world. You will never change. You are empty. You are always empty. You can’t love. You can’t care. You can’t sympathize.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Go ahead. Believe in your falses. See where it gets you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exactly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You want your freedom? Take it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>…</b>
  <span>” You groan. Clenching your leg. You ignore your gospel and stand up. You almost fall, but by the hands of your balance, you keep yourself up. But you lean to a nearby wall. Hissing as your leg is dragged onto the floor. It’s bandaged, not casted, don’t worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You slowly leave the room, and light comes out. It is bright but it isn’t normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You already hate it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hello, Olivia.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Woo flashback with my bestie bitch Olivia hell fucking yeahhh</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for blood and a demon corpse</p><p>I’m in another country why the fuck am I writing lmao.</p><p>Also yes I headcanon Sam working at a cinema, he gotta pay for them classes.</p><p>Also this ain’t Sam x Olivia. Just pointing it out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Samuel Hayden is dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You have been for a long time. It isn’t special. You attempt to let it be, to let it impact the lives around you. It doesn’t. It’s only quick, painless, out of the picture. Just like anyone and everyone else, you die. It happens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your only eye becomes half-lidded, as you watch yourself become acquainted with the area around you. The bright light no longer blinds you, but you still hate it. You still hate it even more, as a matter of fact. It doesn’t show, you don’t let it show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Is this hell?</b>
  <span>” You internally ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, it isn’t. You’re somewhere,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” I replied, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You lie down, your leg cramping as you lean in by the wall behind you. Your head begins to hurt, your bandaged hand holding the side and feeling the damp, blonde hair. The light around you dims, and as you kneel down, ignoring the pain, you start to realize that you have always been like this. Fate brought you here. Now you’re starting to get it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You exhale deeply, stand up slowly, and lean by the wall. You start to limp in whatever direction the wall leads to. And for once in your life, you don’t know what you are doing. You take the route of a blind, old fool. You might as well be one. For what you have done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light gets dimmer and dimmer. You squint for one moment, but then you stop after your head gives you a massive migraine. You start to feel lightheaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts, doesn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Make it stop… make it stop</b>
  <span>,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You grumble. You’re irritated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing happy to find in your life. You feel like you are going to vomit. You don’t like this feeling. The pain is unbearable. Your stomach twisting and churning. Your steps get out of rhythm, soon you stop leaning against the wall. A soft, regurgitating smell grabbing your attention. The pain in your leg ruins it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You fall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the reflective floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On your face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t stand up. But you feel something. Something wet. Wet and thick. Like a cold soup in a pot. You lift your head up. Not feeling the random liquid on your face, but it was there nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you look around the unknown place, you realize the liquid you fell on was what they called, blood. And the corpse, the reason behind the awful smell, was right in front of you. It’s brain splayed open and wide, the brain dried up like a raisin. If you would touch it, it’d fall apart instantly. The face and mouth aghast, and the legs immobile. It was her, Olivia. That naive woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Olivia</b>
  <span>,” you internally say, “</span>
  <b>No</b>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The body of the Spider Mastermind was no different, the Doom Slayer put an end to her miserable life. But you were the one that caused her to be like this. You can’t handle a simple kindness around your life. You can’t help but abuse and manipulate those around you. You’re a heretic. A good-for-nothing makyr. A ‘Seraph’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’d do it again, won’t you Samuel?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You reply, “</span>
  <b>Hello, Olivia...</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You both stayed inside the cinema you used to work at. The moths clinged onto the light outside, some flying around it. Earth was a special place with complex people, and the woman was no different. Olivia and you unceremoniously left a college party, she wanted to of course. And you followed her. You were unsure of how the two of you met, but it somehow worked out. She was a very sentimental woman, and she was very young and too naive for her own good. The woman stayed over for the night, since her home was miles away. Sitting down on the stairway, Olivia yawns and so do you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wore a casual business suit, and her hair was tied up in a bun. You wore nothing but a coat, a newsboy cap, and loose pants. Your shoes were already starting to get dirty. She seemed very sympathetic to you. Often taking the blame. Understanding your constant ramblings.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You were colleagues, no, friends, for years. She slowly started to open up to you after those years. During her time in college in Strasbourg, and during her time at her job. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to hint she too was a workaholic, just like you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The main room was quiet and proper. And some dim lights shone from the staircases. You spoke so quietly, it was almost a whisper, “Olivia, do you think I could have done better?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She replied, “You have become more… open to your views since we first met,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I see,” you say, you sigh deeply, and Olivia pats your shoulder, “I’m sorry that I persisted on destroying the project. When I said it wouldn’t work. That was a lie, did you know that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” you reply.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I then started to realize how much of a commitment you were, to me, to the UAC, to everyone. You started to remind me of him, of… my father,” You can’t tell her about your true identity, you can’t. She wouldn’t understand. She could never understand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You gulp, and keep on walking. Your face is still neutral, but your eyes start to show off emotions. You keep your gaze on the floor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emmanuel Hayden?” She asks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes…”  you say, after a short moment, “My father. You were so much like him, it’s as if you’re just him right now,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t know about The Father, now does she. Olivia shouldn’t. She can’t. She’ll know about you, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought you wouldn’t be like that. Like him. But as I have helped you and you have helped me, I started to finally get the big picture. And when I saw it… I was afraid,” you said quietly, now looking at your colleague, “For the first time in my life, I was afraid. That sounds so cowardly as I say it out loud,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You aren’t cowardly,” she told you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But I was. I was afraid. I was afraid of being with you. With my family. With everyone. Of being a scientist. I hated that man, and I hated my mother. So I chose the UAC, in hopes of bringing something better… but I can’t. Even that corporation was something they both used to take a part of. I tried to find something new, for him,” your sentence starts to stutter, “In the end… I found myself as a fool. I’m just a fool,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You sigh deeply, Olivia took a huge notice of that, “It was your choice to make that, no one could have done it,” she said to you, standing up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That isn’t true. I lie and I manipulate. I keep running away from the truth!” Your tone getting louder, “I keep running away from everything! I truly am a coward,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And what proof is there? You haven’t done anything,” Olivia claimed, you cover your face in shame.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just because I open up to you because I wanted to, it really seems like I’m not just trying, but I can’t. I don’t even want to. I use people for my own purposes, I cheat, I steal, I don’t think about anyone else. I’m selfish,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That is enough,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m such a childish brute, Pierce. I have no right to find him, I can’t even help him,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Enough!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“On top of that, I’m just a man who doesn’t let anyone help me. I only cling on to those that have potential. I might have been using you as well! I’m so fucking dense!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it, Samuel,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t rely on other anymore!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You stop. You clench your coat, “Don’t be a coward. Don’t be a good for nothing Bastard. You keep being vulgar…. I’m leaving,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She left the cinema without another word.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only harsh memory, where she couldn’t help you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You didn’t let her help you. You kept on ranting on your falses. And although they were true, you still made the same problem, over and over and over. You’re like a broken record.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Shut up… just shut the fuck up. For gods sake, leave me the fuck alone</b>
  <span>,” you internally say, and I reply with a simple no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You grumble again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You got a taste of your own medicine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You look at the body for a long while, and you think to yourself, “</span>
  <b>Congratulations, Olivia… He’s dead. I’m just his walking corpse now</b>
  <span>,” and she would have accepted it, if she was in her college age.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your head hurts again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karma works in mysterious ways.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sam: *fucking rants.*<br/>Olivia: bye bitch.</p><p>YOU THOUGHT I WASNT GONNA UPDATE?! YOU THOUGHT WRONG!!</p><p>Beta Reading courtesy to my pal Minbar! You rockstar.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Davoth do be pretty cold doe. He’s a hell of a narrator.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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